Thirteen. He trapped her in corners.
Fourteen. She allowed him to reach into bare spaces.
Fifteen. She was a well kept secret.
Sixteen. He broke her glasses and her heart.
Seventeen. Out of sight, out of mind. Absence did not make the heart grow fonder and forgiveness wasn't as easy as her father had explained.
Twenty-five...
She discovered that they were soul mates. Messy lovers. Liars. Her engagement ring lost in her coat pocket. As she watched him sleep, Luna decided that she was made for Draco. But they simply could not be together in that way. Not in this life at least. Her heart served its purpose, reserved a vacancy just for him a long time ago.
And for the first time, she experienced intense jealousy as her fingers ran through his thinning hair. Draco was much different. His sharp edges were softer and his glower had faded into blank indifference. She was jealous because when she had him, she couldn't inspire any change in him. She could count the times she had seen him smile on one hand.
Astoria.
What kind of woman was she? What spell did she cast onto him? Luna never asked him directly because she feared a lengthy answer. Luna never asked him because she was guilty of thirty different sins. What right did she have to judge a stranger?
Astoria had to be some kind of good. They shared one thing in common– they both loved him.
Luna, you shouldn't be so bitter. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. I'm happy for him.
In the next life, maybe they will get it right.
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